The Abbey Grange
Want to read this along with me? This essay is part of The Return of Sherlock Holmes, published in 1905. I used the epub version found on Feedbooks.com.
This is the 50th essay I’ve written in the Tour de Holmes, and I’m celebrating by using an iPad (original model) to read this story on. This is the third ereader I’ve used since I started the series, but each time I’ve transferred the same file from each device, so I’m still reading the same “book.” If anyone’s interested in the technical details of my ereading experiences, I’m happy to talk about them in the comments or in a separate blog post. But for now, back to Victorian England.
This is another case with Stanley Hopkins. We find out that Hopkins has called Holmes in on seven cases as of 1897, but we only have four stories in which Hopkins appears.
It’s also the case with the sole instance of Holmes saying “The game is afoot.” Let me make that clear: this is the only time this is said in the entire canon. It is hardly the catchphrase that many people believe it to be.1 It’s believed to be paraphrased from Shakespeare, either The First Part of Henry the Fourth, Act I, Scene 3, or The Life of Henry the Fifth, Act III, Scene 1.
Watson’s writing and publication of Holmes’ cases becomes a sore spot in the story, and Watson gets a little testy about it.
Your fatal habit of looking at everything from the point of view of a story instead of as a scientific exercise has ruined what might have been an instructive and even classical series of demonstrations. You slur over work of the utmost finesse and delicacy, in order to dwell upon sensational details which may excite, but cannot possibly instruct, the reader.”
“Why do you not write them yourself?” I said, with some bitterness.
“I will, my dear Watson, I will.”2
As for Holmes himself, we learn that he is six feet tall. He lists the suspect as “six foot three in height,” and that he is “at least three inches a bigger man than I.” Holmes is also unusually taken in by the complete-sounding story from Lady Brackenstall – so much that he actually leaves the scene of the case and has to reconsider it before he discounts the testimony and return. Of course, this story was written before the style of American detective fiction was created, where clients and witnesses were assumed to be lying, but Holmes had always been fairly critical of both physical and testimonial evidence in previous cases.
Let’s look at Doyle’s writing a little more closely here. On the one hand, there are a couple of good instances of Doyle short-cutting through unnecessary talk. One of the better examples:
“I have told you all that happened, Mr. Hopkins,” she said, wearily. “Could you not repeat it for me? Well, if you think it necessary, I will tell these gentlemen what occurred.”
On the other hand, some of Lady Brackenstall’s testimony sounds odd.
“But the main reason lies in the one fact, which is notorious to everyone, and that is that Sir Eustace was a confirmed drunkard. To be with such a man for an hour is unpleasant. Can you imagine what it means for a sensitive and high-spirited woman to be tied to him for day and night? It is a sacrilege, a crime, a villainy to hold that such a marriage is binding.”
Who talks about themselves as a “sensitive and high-spirited woman” like that? Even given the stilted cadence of Victorian fiction, this sounds particular awkward and forced, especially for a more polished and modern-feeling writer like Doyle.
A couple of things about Victorian society. There’s more casual racism in this story, specifically “I believe you are a man of your word, and a white man…” This was US slang that means “an honest man.” There are also a number of references to beeswing. I did some research, and found out that it’s a flaky deposit found in certain kinds of bottle-aged wines like port.